


Skin Like Salt and Blood Like Wine

by WrongRemedy



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, M/M, dubcon, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-21 22:36:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrongRemedy/pseuds/WrongRemedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal wanted to be everything Will was, and this was as close as he had come thus far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skin Like Salt and Blood Like Wine

There were many things about Will Graham that fascinated Hannibal Lecter. Will was quiet and kind and wanted only to be normal. He also knew, in that acute and awful way that only those intelligent enough to have Will’s twisted sense of self-awareness could possibly know, that he would never be anything close to that.

Will Graham loathed himself. He attempted to find reasons behind his madness – to explain away the things that he did that caused others to smile at him but also keep their distance, so that perhaps someday he could find a justification strong enough that it would stop him wanting to keep distance from himself.

Hannibal couldn’t get enough of Will’s utterly warped emotional state, and he couldn’t stop himself from toying with it, winding it up further and further like a cloth being wrung until it was coiled so tightly it had to be snapped. Will’s mind was the most fabulously interesting plaything he had come across in some time, and he simply couldn’t walk away from the opportunity once he realized just how much damage it was possible for him to inflict there.

All it took was a simple meal.

Breakfast, offered in friendship, by a man who was supposed to be keeping his professional distance, and Hannibal’s mouth watered not at the food he was presenting to Will, but at the look in Will’s eyes which clearly sang of the strange respect Will held for the fact that Hannibal so plainly did not give a damn about what Jack Crawford or anyone else wanted him to do.

After that, each little push became easier and easier, both for Hannibal to enact and for Will to endure. Hannibal found that, so long as he did it slowly, and kept each step on a gradual increase from the last, Will was perfectly manipulated into going along with anything Hannibal wished him to do. He could convince Will Graham that the sky was falling and that his whole life had been nothing more than a hallucination if he wanted, and while it would take some convincing, Will would follow him soon enough.

It was delicious. It was everything Hannibal could have wanted. It was not nearly enough.

The first night he decided to find his pleasure with Will in more than just an emotional sense, Will began with the token protests.

“While I’m flattered, Doctor Lecter,” he began, closing his eyes tightly and waving his hands as if trying to pretend – at least until the end of his sentence – that he was somewhere else, somewhere where he wasn’t flustered and thrown off-balance. It wasn’t working. Hannibal was overjoyed.

Moving slowly towards Will, Hannibal took the other’s hands in his and lowered them to his sides, waiting patiently, looming over Will until he cracked an eye open and looked up at Hannibal. Fear shone in Will’s eyes, amongst other warring feelings to be sure, but the fear was deeply present.

_Good,_ Hannibal thought. _Good boy. You know better than to trust me, even after all this time._

“Trust me, Will,” he said aloud. Gently, softly. “This is not a bad idea.”

Will’s eyes fell shut again, and blew out a heavy breath, forehead scrunching and mouth moving impossibly fast around silent words trapped behind clenched teeth as he tried in vain to find something inside himself that didn’t want to do what Hannibal asked.

As quickly as it had come, the panic fled, and Will’s face became a perfect picture of calm. When his eyes opened again they were almost glassy, void of anything at all that wasn’t willingness to obey. Hannibal smiled widely and didn’t bother to hide it. His cock began to stiffen. This was going to be fun.

“There now,” he said, tilting Will’s chin up with his fingers.  “That wasn’t so difficult a decision after all, was it?”

Will shook his head and then swallowed, and Hannibal’s eyes flicked down to the motion of his neck. He wanted to sink his teeth in and rip Will’s throat out. Instead he leaned down and kissed the juncture of his neck and shoulder once, a ghost of his lips, and brought his face back up to Will’s.

“I will make this so good for you, Will,” he promised, putting his arms around Will and gathering him closer to his body. Will buried his face in Hannibal’s chest and nodded silently.

Later, much later, Hannibal would tear chunks of Will’s flesh from his body, would consume him in a much more literal sense than what he had in mind for tonight. He would not only drag his teeth down over Will’s skin to make him shiver, but would dig in, pulling and ripping and tasting the hot sweetness of Will’s blood spilling over his lips. He would have Will Graham in every way he desired, eventually, eventually. But not yet.

On this night, Hannibal simply laid Will down on his bed, removed Will’s clothing piece by delicate piece, and his own without fuss, and turned Will onto his stomach before smoothing his broad hands down Will’s body, urging him to raise up onto his hands and knees near the end of the bed. He draped himself over Will’s body, pressing kisses in a line down Will’s back, feeling the skin and muscle and bone shift beneath his lips, mouth watering and cock bouncing stiffly at the feeling, imagining the layers just below the surface.

Will whined when Hannibal stepped away from him, and Hannibal felt a thrill go through him. Oh, he’d made Will want him. Made Will so desperately needy for him that he couldn’t go without him for a mere second without falling apart. It was pathetic, pitiable, and utterly, wonderfully delicious. Hannibal did his best not to chuckle while he went quickly to retrieve lubricant. He wouldn’t use a condom. He wouldn’t need to. He knew they were both clean, and Will was much too far gone to care either way.

When he stepped back up to the edge of the bed, he shoved two lubed fingers into Will immediately; listening intently to the cry that fell from Will’s lips, watching has the head of dark, curly, sweaty hair dropped down towards the bed. Will shook and moaned brokenly and Hannibal eyed him intently, taking in his every detail as he added a third finger and worked them thoroughly, stretching him until the (admittedly minimal) resistance was completely gone from his body.

Will whined again when Hannibal removed his fingers, and keened long and low when Hannibal covered Will’s body with his own yet again, his cock at Will’s entrance and his mouth at his ear.

“I am going to fuck you now, Will,” he said, measured breath and his usual calm, soothing, professional tone.

It wouldn’t do to slip now, to let Will hear that what they were doing was affecting Hannibal in any way. Everything hinged on Hannibal’s strength, his constant, unwavering attitude. He had to make himself the only anchor Will had, never-changing and ever-present, until such time when Hannibal could sweep the rug out from under Will’s feet and send him sprawling down, down, right where Hannibal wanted him to be.

“Please acknowledge that you hear me, Will,” Hannibal asked, and immediately Will gathered himself enough to nod his head and breath, “I’m here.”

“Good,” Hannibal crooned, rocking towards Will to hear the man gasp, hear his breath catch shallow in his throat as he felt Hannibal against him. “Tell me you’re ready,” he commanded, and Will nodded again, frantically this time.

“Words,” Hannibal chided, and smiled when Will literally growled in frustration.

“I’m ready, Hannibal, god, just….just fuck me.”

Something heavy and perfect settled deep into Hannibal’s chest at the words – a great cavernous sense of satisfaction that radiated from his core and out through his whole body. With one shift, he buried himself halfway into Will, pausing only a second to feel Will shudder before pressing in the rest of the way and setting a brutal pace immediately. He gave Will no time to adjust, not a moment for his brain to stop spinning. He wanted Will out of control, unable to think, feeling nothing but Hannibal in as many ways as possible until Hannibal was all Will Graham knew or needed to know.

Hannibal wanted to be everything Will was, and this was as close as he had come thus far.

He fucked Will thoroughly for as long as he could manage, several times stopping or pulling out completely just to revel in Will’s neediness, his sobbing, his pleading. His tears were nearly as lovely as Hannibal knew his blood to be.

When he finally knew he wouldn’t last much longer, he sunk into Will as deeply as possible and slid a slow hand down Will’s chest and stomach, stopping just above the jut of Will’s cock, hanging untouched and deprived, denied of Hannibal’s attentions no matter how much Will begged. Leaning in to bury his face in the curls at the base of Will’s neck, Hannibal muttered, “You’re going to come for me, Will. Only from me fucking you. You won’t touch yourself, nor will I touch you. I know you can do this for me. You have my permission to come whenever you can, and you have until I finish to do so.”

His voice was dark and choked despite his best efforts, but it only seemed to work in his favor, thralling Will in a way that even Hannibal’s other actions hadn’t managed yet.

“Okay…” Will whispered, letting go, falling loose in Hannibal’s arms and letting the other hold him up. Hannibal bit at the back of Will’s neck, enough to sting but not enough to break the surface – though it was ever tempting – and began to thrust yet again. It took only five thrusts for Will to come screaming, burying his face in the blanket and arching back onto Hannibal’s cock. Hannibal continued on, another half dozen thrusts before reaching his own end, pushing deep and filling Will to the brim, feeling again that bone-deep satisfaction that told him that he owned Will now, as thoroughly as he ever would before his full plans were set into motion.

Hannibal allowed himself to slip from Will’s body, laying a brief kiss on a shoulderblade before departing quickly to find a damp cloth to clean them up with. When he’d managed to get Will as decently sanitary as he could manage, maneuvered him underneath the covers and watched him drift off to sleep immediately, without so much as a murmured word.

Hannibal gathered sleeping clothes and put them on before making his way back into the kitchen. He leaned against the island in the middle of the room, replaying the night’s events. He was several steps closer now to finishing his plans for Will, and while he was more than pleased with the progression, he couldn’t help but look into the not overly-distant future. Will’s downfall would come swiftly at Hannibal’s hands, and no one other than the two of them would ever know that it wasn’t solely Will’s doing. Hannibal would be nothing more than the concerned friend and therapist who could only hope to save him, but didn’t fully manage before it was too late. It was a shame their game would have to end so soon. Will really was the most fascinating specimen that Hannibal had toyed with for as long as he could remember.

Hannibal made himself a cup of tea and drank it leisurely before making his way back into the bedroom and crawling in to sleep next to Will. He gathered Will against him, holding him, breathing in the scent of his hair, the scent of his sleep, the scent of his blood.

It was a shame he was going to have to ruin Will so soon, yes. But at least, Hannibal thought as he drifted off to sleep, at least he would be able to enjoy the game while it lasted. 


End file.
